


Pizza-Delivery Guy Has One Hell Of An Ass On Him, Local Satanist Will Tell You That Right Now

by Miralana



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pizza, Satanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miralana/pseuds/Miralana
Summary: There is a half-naked man in front of him, with blood dripping down his chest and a chicken in his hand.Somehow this is not the weirdest thing that has happened to Ravus this year.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt: “im a pizza delivery person and i just delivered a pizza to someone in the middle of a satanic ritual and they gave me their number???”

 

“I’m just saying, Mom would really appreciate it if you came home for Christmas.”

Ravus sighs and dips the turn-signal when Google maps tells him so. His phone is lying on the passenger-seat, illuminating some of the books lying there, which Ravus likes to ignore whenever he sees them.

“Well, it was mother’s idea that I should work, so now she can deal with the consequences.” It’s not like Ravus needs money to survive his PhD, but after the great summer holiday tragedy of 756 she had sat him down and told him that he would have to get a job, or she would cut all of his financial aid. She made it out as some big growing up experience when they all know that he had heard her talk to Lunafreya about ‘character building’ and ‘maybe not being that much of an asshole’ as if there is something wrong with his personality. He just has a selective taste for how much bullshit he can take. The summer holiday definitely fell into that, as does spending yet another Christmas with the Lucis Caelum’s – just like they had done for as long as Ravus can remember.

“I know, your dissertation is waiting, but _please_ ,” she begs and Ravus sighs. He has never been good at saying no to her and she knows it. Even if she’s partially responsible for his ‘character building’ exercise.

“You have arrived at your destination,” his phone suddenly says and Ravus picks it up, as he puts the car to stop.

“Lunafreya, I’ll call you back.”

“Ravus, no, don’t you da-“

He ends the call and sighs, before getting out of the car and shutting the door with his foot. Looking around, there’s no house where one should be just a gigantic hedge going from number 13 to 17. No house number 15 in sight. Ravus walks a few steps to each side, but still can’t find anything. If this is another prank call, only there to waste Ravus’ time, he won’t be pleased.

He gets out his phone again and dials the number that’s attached to the order.

“What?” a voice yells at him and Ravus does his best not to sigh.

“You ordered a pizza? But I can’t find your address.”

“Squeeze through the hole at the far end.” And the guy hangs up. Ravus looks at the phone and back at the hedge.

This definitely sounds like a prank call and he doesn’t really feel like squeezing through anything at the moment. It’s only the voice of his mother in the back of his head, reminding him about poverty and student loans, that makes him get the pizza box out of the boot one-handed, before walking to the ‘far edge’ of the hedge, seeing that there is indeed a very narrow hole between the hedge and the wall of number 17. He squeezes through, leaves and branches cutting into his good hand and hates his mother just a little for making him do this.

When he is finally through, Ravus stumbles over the frozen and snowy ground, and sees a single-family-home. It’s too dark to see much – weirdly enough, it’s the only house in the whole street that doesn’t have any Christmas decoration. The curtains are drawn shut, but there is some light behind them and music being played loud enough to be heard even outside the house, showing that there is indeed someone there who wants visitors and poor delivery guys to press themselves through tiny cracks with a box full of pizza.

He balances the box against his waist and presses the button that says “Izunia/Tummelt” with his little finger, wincing when the pain in his arm becomes a bit too much.

He waits impatiently, while the music suddenly gets turned down and something crashes behind closed doors.

Ravus has seen – excuse his language – some serious shit since he has moved out of his childhood home. He’s seen his senile advisor read through parts of his dissertation without pants, he’s seen his sister making out with her girlfriend, he got into a fight with said girlfriend’s brother, which ended up with his left arm being held over an open gas stove – which is why he is still wearing bandages. And not even their house burning down when he was twelve and having to hold on to his mother while the ambulance was on their way, has prepared him for what happens when the door finally opens.

At first there is just nothing more than a naked chest. Ravus blinks. Looks up into the guy’s face and swallows. While Ravus would technically describe this guy as handsome – with his wild mop of dark red-ish hair and stubble on his strong jawline – there is just something really wrong about blood dripping down the chest of a half-naked man who’s holding an alive chicken by the legs.

“Pizza for Tummelt?” he asks, his voice as unwavering as only living through the last family reunion can make it – and that one had ended with Lunafreya’s girlfriends brother’s secret older boyfriend cutting off one of Uncle Regis’ finger. Ravus hadn’t asked, mostly because he doesn’t care unless there is no alcohol to make him forgot every reunion completely, so he’s not sure why, what and how that exactly had happened.

The guy in front of him turns around, which means the chicken ends up in Ravus’ face. “Loqi, where did you put the money?!”

“On the counter!” a voice he recognises from the phone call yells back and Ravus tries his best to balance the box against his waist.

“Gimme a sec, yeah?” The guy walks a few steps back into the house, the chicken still in his hand.

“It’s not here!”

“It should be!”

“Well, it’s not!”

“Ardyn, just ask him if he wants the chicken!”

The guy – Ardyn - leans back enough to look at Ravus.

“Absolutely not.”

“Your loss, it’s a great chicken. Very expensive. Hah, found it.”

He comes back, the chicken now secure under his arm, money dangling from his fingers and Ravus sets the box down. He gets his wallet out of his jacket.

“That’ll be twenty-three-sixty.”

Ardyn pushes thirty dollars in his hand and winks. “Keep the rest. Buy yourself something nice.”

Ravus blinks. Looks down at his three-hundred dollar boots, his designer jeans – just because they look torn and ratty doesn’t mean that it’s not deliberate – and five-hundred dollar coat … and just rolls with it. You never know when you may need six dollars and forty cents.

“Thank you, sir.” Ravus bends down to get the pizza out of the box, one handed and curses Nyx and his access to gas-stoves.

“You know, I might be able to help you with that,” Ardyn says and Ravus looks up.

“Excuse me?”

“The hand. I could do something for that. Something not even your medicine can do.”

Ravus looks at Ardyn. And then – because he is in a position to see it – past him at the wall behind him. There’s a pentagram. A horrible early-noughties pentagram that screams scene-phase. Just that the guy in front of him doesn’t look like an early-noughties emo kid with too much make-up and too-skinny jeans – not that Ravus knows what scene-phase-kids look like, but there is a reason why all pictures of him between the ages of thirteen and seventeen have been burned.

Ravus looks at Ardyn and his chicken, his blood-splattered chest and the pentagram.

So… Ravus Nox Fleuret isn’t someone who judges other people. He has opinions. Strong opinions. And sometimes he might make these opinions known. And sometimes – like in the case of Nyx and his horrible haircut or Aranea and her horrible taste in shoes – he might come on a bit too strong. People have told him that. Not that Ravus minds, because he’s quite aware that everyone else is overreacting when they call him a “judgemental jerk with no sense of tact”.

But.

This might be a bit much.

Ravus puts the Pizza in the guy’s waiting hands and gets back up again.

“I’m good,” he says with as much self-control as he can.

“Really?” the grin Ardyn gives him is as feral as it is attractive and Ravus grips the box harder. “I mean we have the chicken, so we’re hallway there. We’re just missing a virgin sacrifice.”

He keeps looking at Ravus, with this predatory grin on his face. Ravus forces himself to smile and takes a step back mentally.

“Still not interested.”

“And I don’t suppose you know any virgins around here?”

“Of course not!” And now why is he disclosing his sexual history to this guy?

“A pity,” Ardyn somehow moves the chicken from under his arm in his hand again and manages to stroke Ravus cheek with one finger, the feathers of the chicken tickling his jaw.

He’s not sure if it would have been worse with or without the chicken.

But he is absolutely sure that he needs to get the hell away from this house, before he gets ritually sacrificed.

Ravus bends down to get the box under his arm again and then takes a step back.

“Have a good day, sir,” he says and moves backwards, nearly slipping on the frozen ground.

“Oh, you can call me sir any time of the day.” The man winks and even though Ravus really doesn’t want to turn around and have his back open to this guy, he has to if he wants to make it out of here alive. Who knows what crazy Satanists do to poor souls like him.

When he’s back in the car, now with even more scratches on his arm, his phone vibrates.

 

**[Unknown number]**

i bet you would taste just as good as the pizza

 

Ravus blinks, looks at the order note and at his phone and curses every deity he knows. He’s never calling a customer again. Next time he’s just going to pay for the pizza himself. And maybe, he thinks with a look at the hedge, he might want to spend Christmas at home after all.

Ending up as a ritual sacrifice for these guys would just be the low-point of his year.

**Author's Note:**

> as always follow me on [tumblr](http://everknowing.tumblr.com/) if you want.


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